Prologue
1251
Scottish Highlands
Twilight crept over the forest, sneaking up on Lilias and her lady mother at a pace neither had anticipated. As if the wood sought the darkness, craved it. They came to a clearing, the trees looking like they’d stepped back to make a circle and at the center, the spookiest of places wee Lilias had ever seen.
A wattle and daub croft was dark, no candle of firelight cast from the single window, or the cracks in the weathered door. No smoke curled from the chimney. Growing up the sides were twisted vines that seemed to reach for the sky, pushing past the sagging limbs of the overbearing trees that hovered above the roof. The croft was not in the least welcoming. It lacked life. For as much as she could tell, there was no one about at all.
“Mama, I dinna like this place,” Lilias said, with a shiver.
“We’ll not be long, Lili.” Her mother’s fingers held firm to her arm, correctly suspecting Lilias’s desire to run—and she would if given the chance.
At just shy of seven summers, her vivid imagination was going wild at what manner of creatures the eerie croft and woods at dusk held.
“Why are we here?” Her voice came out so low, she was surprised her mother heard her at all.
“I’ve explained already.” Mama dragged her closer to the door. Suspicious in the extreme, Lady Cameron had been having dreams lately of her daughter in trouble. What exactly those dreams contained, Lilias didn’t know for certain. She’d only heard her mother lament of them to her father. Whenever Lilias drew near enough to eavesdrop, her mother always seemed to sense she was near. The awareness her mother had when it came to Lilias was almost magical in its power to reveal her at every turn. Enough so that Lilias often wondered if her mother weren’t a magical creature herself.
If that were the case, then she could keep Lilias safe now, couldn’t she?
As they approached the door, the wind howled and the leaves rustled. Rubbing together in way that sounded like a hundred tiny footsteps shifted all around them.
Lilias bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering in fear, and she scooted closer to her mother, grateful now for the firm grip on her arm.
Though it was summer, when the sun set this evening, a chill swept over the moors. They wore their cloaks, but even the wool didn’t keep the brisk air from sweeping up the hem of her gown.
“I’m scared,” Lilias said.
Mama glanced down at Lilias, her eyes shining from where the moon crept through the branches overhead. “Hush, now, Lili. Dinna be afraid. We are here to see what the future holds.”
With her knuckles, Mama gave two swift knocks and then three more. It sounded like a pattern, a code. Mama held her breath and Lilias counted to seven. Mother did the same sequence of knocking once more, and then seven breaths later, the door burst open.
If possible, the chill from the air that whooshed from within was colder than the temperature outside.
Lilias shuddered once more, staring into the void. There was no one standing beyond the threshold, just blackness and the scent of musty herbs. Who had opened the door?
“Mama…” Lilias said, seeking her mother’s hand and winding her fingers with her mother’s.
“All will be well. Ye need only reach inside yourself, love. Ye alone have the strength to endure,” Mama said, tugging her inside.
As soon as they were across the threshold, the door swung shut behind them, followed by a loud click as the handle latched. The sounds of the rustling leaves, the howling wind, it all dissipated in that one moment, leaving them in complete silence. And darkness.
Lilias opened her mouth to tell her mother once more of her fear, but the grip on her arm lightened, mama’s signal that she was…relaxing? Suddenly, Lilias did feel stronger. What her mother said was true—she could endure.
“I have been expecting ye.” An old woman’s voice scratched from somewhere to their right.
There was the sound of a flint-rock being struck and then light came from a single candle set on a rickety, round table, illuminating the room. Herbs hung from the rafters of the croft. The dim candlelight cast large and odd-shaped shadows over the floor and walls. Sitting in a chair by the hearth was an old crone with silver hair that danced in the candlelight. Shoulders stooped, long chin reaching close to her chest, she looked as though she’d lived to be one hundred twenty years.
How had she lit the candle from the chair? There was at least six feet between the two. And there was no way she’d been able to get from the table to the chair without them having seen. Or very quickly for that matter. She looked as though she’d not left the chair in a very long time.
“Magic,” the old crone whispered.
Lilias glanced up at her mother, certain she’d not spoken her question aloud. The crone had read her thoughts. There was a word on the tip of Lilias’s mind—witch—that she dared not speak aloud.
The older woman clucked her tongue, disapproving of this thought. “I am a seer. A taibhsear, ye ken? Come closer, child. Stand before me. Let us not dally.
When Lilias made no move to go forward, Mama tugged her closer to the empty hearth, her numb feet begrudgingly sliding over the earthen floor.
The musty, herbal scent grew as they approached the taibhsear, as though it were the seer’s own essence.
“Ye have come seeking answers about your daughter’s future,” the seer said.
“Aye.” Lady Cameron’s voice was strong; nevertheless, Lilias could sense the underlying fear.
“Closer, child.”
Lilias took tentative steps forward, her mother’s pointy fingers in the small of her back urging her on. When her boots touched the tips of the seer’s, she stopped. She couldn’t look the old woman in the eyes. They were so dark, so deep, seeming to reach the ends of the earth.
The taibhsear leaned forward, her bones creaking. She grabbed hold of Lilias’s hand, her fingers sharp with bone. Turning over the palm, she ran a crooked nail over the center of Lilias’s palm. A chill ran through Lilias and she tried to clench her fingers closed, to hide her palm from the woman’s view, but some unseen force kept her fingers open.
“She has an important destiny.”
Mama shifted beside Lilias, her body stiffening. “I can only pray ’tis so.”
“Did ye bring payment?”
“Aye.” Mama pressed a ruby ring into the crone’s gnarled hand.
The taibhsear slipped the ring onto her finger and then reached up, hands steady when they looked like they should be shaking.
The seer touched Lilias’s forehead, the cold, bony tips of her fingers chilling her skin to a sting. “I see… a man who commands twilight.”
Mother gasped. “Is he coming for her?”
“Shh…” The seer rebuked, one eye popping open in disproval as she eyed Mama, then slammed it closed once more. “Summer shall come to pass thirteen times before he makes his presence known.”
“Who is he?” Mama asked impatiently, and Lilias too wondered at this stranger who was going to get her.
“He is dark of hair, stormy of eye, and fiercer than the wickedest gale storm. This laird of twilight shall wed Lilias.”
Nay! She did not want to wed, and especially not a man as terrifying as this one sounded.
“So, she will live at least that long.” Mama blew out a breath of relief. “In my dreams—”
The seer’s eyes flew open, meeting with Mama’s. She removed her hand from Lilias’s forehead and placed it over Lady Cameron’s face. “Those dreams… they are not about your daughter.”
“Then who?”
The seer shook her head, removed her hand, and took a step backward. “I dinna know.”
“How can ye not know?” Frustration oozed from every one of Mama’s words.
“I am drained.” The taibhsear sank back into her chair, as though the effort to sit up was too much now.
“Ye want more? I can give ye…” Her mother grabbed for another ring on her finger, but the seer stopped her with a shake of her head.
“No more today, my lady. Ye wanted to know your daughter’s future, and I have given it to ye.” She closed her eyes and slowly traced something in the air. “A man who commands twilight. Dark of hair. Stormy of eye. Fiercer than the wickedest gale storm. He is her future.”
Lilias frowned as the candle on the table flickered, and Mama ushered her from the quickly darkening croft. Outside, the door slammed closed once more, all life from within seeming to be extinguished.
Lilias did not want a man to be her future. She wanted to forge her own. But saying such to her mother was out of the question. No doubt now, and until this laird of twilight made himself known, Mama would search out every warrior with a stormy look to his eyes.